


The Wolf's Bitch

by devilcultt



Category: Original Work
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Fantasy, Forced Exhibitionism, Original Character(s), Short, Size Difference, Werewolf, mentions of torture, werewolf dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22657855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilcultt/pseuds/devilcultt
Summary: Anya's secret and forbidden meetings with her werewolf lover are found out, and they are given one last chance to express their unnatural love before judgment is met.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	The Wolf's Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first fics I've ever written and posted online, originally on tumblr under a different psuedonym, and I thought it might be appropriate that it be the first post I make here as well.
> 
> Newly revised to meet my current standards. I might do the same with my other stories.

Anya awoke to heavy hands grasping at her arms and legs. She struggled in a startled, half-awake state, but whatever resistance she could muster proved short lived before her ankles were bound together with coarse rope. One set of hands flipped her onto her stomach with ease as the other tied her hands behind her back. Her screams and cries for help were quickly muffled by a makeshift gag, and she could only briefly catch a glimpse of her abductors in the dim light of the full moon before quickly being blindfolded.  
  
Whomever Anya’s abductors were, they worked in silence, and in unison. She struggled despite her bonds, trying to make as much noise as she could; hoping to knock something from her nightstand with a crash; crying out in fury and frustration, but no one came to her aid. One of the abductors grabbed Anya by the waist and hoisted her over their shoulder, carrying her off with no sense of urgency.  
  
Her breathing grew rapid with panic, her voice strained against the gag, and her stomach turned in dreadful anticipation until she wanted to vomit. She nearly did, too, as he captors threw her painfully against the ground, landing on her side hard enough that her shoulder might have become dislocated. She screamed in pain, but all that came out was a muted groan. She laid there on the cold, marble floor, blind and gagged and bound with nothing but the sound of her own desperate, panicked breaths to fill the silence.  
  
Even with the blindfold, Anya knew she was not alone. Her skin became slick with sweat as she waited, despite the cold night air and her thin nightclothes that did little to ward it off, causing the fabric to cling to her skin. No one moved, no one said anything until the distinct sound of heeled footfalls against marble floors echoed down in the distance. They drew closer, closer, until they stopped a few feet away from Anya. With a snap, hands groped at the girl again, lifting her upright so that she sat on her knees. Her gag came out first with a sputter and cough, then her blindfold, though her bonds remained fast. And she recognized where she had been brought.  
  
Anya sat, knelt, in the center of the great hall of the manse in which she lived, looking up at its owner, Mistress Sevianna. Dimly lit braziers hung from the sconces along the hall’s columns, and the Mistress’ faithful servants stood at attention behind Anya, arranged in a half circle to ensure she made no attempts at escape.  
  
Sevianna sat upon a throne befitting her ego, wearing a thin, frilled night gown that obscured very little of her flawless, pale skin. She played with a lock of her long black hair contemplatively, looking down at Anya with cold scrutiny.  
  
“You wound me, my love.” She said with a beleaguered sigh. Her tone was stern and even, but did nothing to hide her obvious displeasure. “Some of the other residents have told me—in great detail no less—about your illicit relations with one of my pets; that you sneak out after dark and meet in the woods. What say you to these accusations?”  
  
Something in Anya’s body shot through her like fire. Her teeth gritted reflexively, trying to maintain her composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Claiming ignorance, are we? The beast did the same at first. But we soon broke him, as well.” Sevianna flashed a brief grin of self-satisfaction, turning to the eastern corridor from which she entered and commanding to “bring him in.”  
  
Anya’s chest tightened with oncoming tears as she watched a large, bestial figure shamble into the great hall, muzzled and led by a heavy leash. Entire sections of fur had been stripped from its body, leaving fresh, bleeding wounds visible underneath.  
  
“Eoric…” Anya muttered painfully. The beast made a few sluggish steps before collapsing a few feet from Anya. She threw her body against his, finally letting the tears flow, straining against her bonds that she could embrace him. “What did she do to you?” She breathed in his scent, stained with the iron tinge of blood, felt his labored breathing as his massive chest heaved unevenly, unable to respond.  
  
The girl turned back to the woman seated comfortably in the center of the hall, glaring through furious, tear-filled eyes.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that, my dear.” Sevianna crooned ironically. “It is I who has been betrayed. I have given both of you a home and newfound purpose.” The woman stood, descending the steps up on which her throne stood to approach the shivering girl until they were a mere breath away. “And as long as you remain in my abode, you serve no one but myself.” She took a fistful of Anya's hair and pulled her even closer, relishing in the girl's pain. Her lips grazed Anya’s cheek as she whispered. “I should not have to explain how disgusting it is for someone to consort with monstrosities like this one.” Anya grimaced indignantly and Eoric whimpered as a heel thrust painfully into his side  
  
“Stop!” Anya pleaded, her voice cracking miserably.  
  
“What was that, beast?” Sevianna cackled wickedly, driving her heel harder between the helpless werewolf’s ribs.  
  
“Please, you’re going to kill him!” Anya protested through flowing tears, silenced only momentarily from the stinging impact of Sevianna’s palm across her face.  
  
“He will speak for himself. Remove his muzzle.” The mistress motioned to a servant, who promptly obliged, unshackling the metal cage from Eoric’s maw while she returned to her throne.  
  
Moments passed in the relative silence of Eoric’s heavy, labored breaths. Without even the strength to lift himself off the ground, he finally managed to speak in a tired, gravelly voice: “Spare the girl. She’s innocent. Punish me instead, please.”  
  
“How noble. Heroic, even.” Sevianna mused, “But unfortunately, you are both equally guilty, and I have no choice but to punish you accordingly. However, I am nothing if not merciful, so I will forgive your abominable liaison just this once. Untie the girl.” A servant stepped forward, cutting through the thick ropes that bound Anya’s wrists. She hissed from rubbing the skin raw in her struggles. “I will give you one last opportunity for you two filthy animals to express your love.” She looked directly at Anya and arched a whiplike eyebrow. “Strip.”  
  
The girl froze at her mistress’ command, as if all the warmth had been flushed from her body with a word. “Yes ma'am.” A faint, indistinct sound of protest came from Eoric as the girl slowly rose to her feet. Her hands trembled, idly moving on their own as she shut her eyes to avoid imminent embarrassment. Anya slipped a shoulder through one strap of her nightgown, then the other, letting it fall to the floor in a silken puddle, until all that kept out prying eyes were a pair of white undergarments.  
  
Much like all of Sevianna’s subjects, Anya was kept in good shape; thin, but not without a pleasant curve that followed her waist down to her slender legs. Her breasts were only modest in size, but the cold night air had teased her nipples until they stuck out obscenely, shining pink in the low light and begging for attention. Her soft, hazelnut hair hung past her shoulders, covering her faint scars and complementing the fairness of her skin.  
  
Eoric still lay on his side, eyes wide with shock at Anya’s uncharacteristically brazen display, but unable to tear his eyes away. She turned back to face him, making sure to never turn her gaze away for fear of being reminded where she was and who watched her every move. Her heart beat a thousand times a minute, hard and fast enough that she worried Eoric might be able to hear it as she placed one hand on his shoulder, gently nudging him to lay down on his back. “Leave it to me. I’ll take charge, just this once.” Eoric wanted to protest, but the earnest look on Anya’s hotly flushed and tear-stained face prevented him from denying her. Her mind was already made up., and he had no strength left with which to object.  
  
Anya stood over Eoric’s massive body, lowering herself until she straddled him, reveling in the familiar feeling of his fur against her skin and the lean, toned physique underneath. Eoric’s massive bestial form dwarfed that of his lovers as she laid herself flat against his chest, her small, lithe hands already busy exploring the space between his sinewy haunches until they found purchase. She took her prize with both hands, using her gentle touch to coax it from its sheath, thankfully unscathed by Sevianne’s torturers and glowing a healthy shade of red. The months of their intimacy had made her keenly accustomed with every curve, bulge and vein of the bestial member.  
  
The girl shuffled her body a little to get even closer to it, basking in Eoric's masculine odor as she began to slide both hands up and down its hefty length as it grew to its fully-realized state, fueled by the combination of shame and arousal, exacerbated by the occasional whistle, cheer or horrified, derisive comment from her onlookers.  
  
Eoric was endowed just by virtue of being a eight-foot-tall bipedal werewolf, and his cock was similarly and appropriately canine; a pointed, spade-shaped head, a shaft that grew slightly wider around the center of its length, then becoming slightly narrower just before the swollen knot at its base. She continued to caress it, one hand settling on the base of the knot as she brought the pointed tip to her lips. Her tongue savored its taste and explored its contours with an effortless familiarity.  
  
Slowly and sensually, Anya took more of the throbbing appendage into her mouth until it pressed against the back of her throat as far as it would fit, just before her gag reflex kicked in. Eventually the jeers and incredulous laughter surrounding her were drowned out by her own lewd, garbled moans. She could hear Eoric panting and gasping, his massive chest heaving with each breath. She lived for that.  
  
After a generous tongue bath, Anya pulled away with a pleasant pop, leaving Eoric’s cock slick with a mix of saliva and precum. Opening her eyes, Anya immediately remembered where she was; surrounded by manservants and guards, all in various states of disgust and amusement; Sevianna on her throne, one hand deep between her own milky thighs, looking very entertained. Her trance broken, Anya shuddered harshly. Eoric lifted his huge paws and placed them against Anya's slender hips reassuringly. He effortlessly lifted and turned her around so that they were facing each other. There was a damp spot on Eoric's chest where her crotch was just a moment ago.  
  
They stared in silence for a while, and Anya forced a smile through her tears to reassure Eoric in kind. “I'm all right.” Taking one hand in hers as best she could, she slid her body back until his bulging flesh nestled against her ass, practically begging to be inserted into something, anything. “We're in the woods,” She deluded herself, trying to escape the humiliation, “by the clearing, just like always, next to the lake and the felled tree. Our secret spot.”  
  
Anya lifted her hips and hovered over the glistening tip, massaging it with her soft, still clothed lips. His grip on her waist gradually tightened, resisting the growing temptation to forcibly impale her on his eager cock. She brushed aside her underwear and lowered herself onto it, inserting the head and rotating her hips; grinding, imprinting its unique shape along the inside of her walls. He felt it too, Anya could tell. She lowered herself further until she could feel the widest point of the shaft stretching her open, about as far as she'd ever been able to take it.  
  
Her hips rocked back and forth along his length, eagerly taking a bit more inside her with each thrust. The entire hall was filled with the sound of wet flesh sliding against wet flesh; the sound of pleasured, bestial grunts; and the sound of “I love you” and “I'm sorry” repeated faintly between heavy, excited breaths. The two continued their vulgar display, rocking back and forth as they found their rhythm. Anya bit her lip as Eoric pushed further into her, ignoring each twinge of pain as his pointed head repeatedly kissed her deepest depths. Every thrust left an imprint of Eoric's girth through her stomach, bulging outward.  
  
Anya's arms became weak and limp as they continued, failing to keep her body upright. Eventually they gave way and she slumped back onto Eoric's chest, continuing to slap her hips against his with abandon. She felt the pads of his clawed fingers rest on her back, holding her closer against him, with the tips lightly grazing her skin in a way that only heightened her pleasure.  
  
Something—some unfamiliar sensation welled within Anya’s depths. She'd felt it before, of course, but... not like this.  
“Anya, I—”  
  
“I know, me too.” Every sentence was punctuated with a sharp gasp or pant, “Give it to me. I want it.” Their pace slowed evenly, howling, crying as their climaxes peaked in tandem. The wolf's seed shot into Anya like a raging flood, filling her. Her back arched, her toes curled reflexively, her hips shook and shuddered as she struggled to receive him. Eoric throbbed intensely as he continued to fill her until the excesses flowed freely onto the floor.  
  
They laid there in a pile, Anya basking in the scent, the sensation, the silence until a sharp clapping cut through the room. She turned as best as Eoric's still-erect member inside her would allow. Sevianna stood, applauding the obscene spectacle. “Marvelous display, my lovelies. I'd never thought I'd witness something so depraved, so unnatural. However, you complied in the most entertaining fashion. Perhaps I still have use for both of you.” She snapped her fingers. “Return the mutt to his cell and the girl to her room. Keep them both locked.”  
  
The bystanding servants mobilized, taking Anya by the waist and arms, forcibly pulling her from Eoric despite her screams of pain and protest. She came free with an audible pop, and the remainder of Eoric's cum flowed from between her kicking and flailing legs, pooling onto the floor. She watched others affix a muzzle and leash back onto his motionless body as she was dragged from the room.  
  
***  
  
It was late in the evening, and Sevianna sat at the end of the banquet hall’s table, looking pleased with her meal, but ultimately unamused. The hall buzzed with the clatter of silverware and idle chatter among the remaining servants and residents of the manse.  
  
The mistress clapped, demanding the undivided attention of her subjects. “I’m terribly bored, someone fetch the wolf and his bitch.”


End file.
